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Daddy’s favorite dress  

Vixxenandhound 55M/44F
1 posts
10/31/2019 7:40 pm
Daddy’s favorite dress


The first thing that caught my eye after returning home from work was my red dress laid out on the bed. I was taken by surprise because the plan was to stay in and repaint the bathroom ceiling, but the red dress meant daddy had a different plan for me. I startled as I felt his hands arms wrap around me from behind. He gave me a firm kiss on the neck and said only, “get dressed.”

The red dress has been worn before, and has always provided such entertainment. As I slipped out of my work clothes I caught my reflection in the mirror and scrutinized myself, wondering if I was mentally and physically prepared for our night. I yanked off my underwear that I had been in all day. There was a wet spot in them already that had emerged as soon as I saw the dress. I’m sure a normal woman wouldn’t get so aroused over the anticipation of what was to come. But it was a long time ago that I accepted that I do not think like most wives.

Even though daddy had not set out undergarments for the night, I knew that he expected something very different than what I would wear to work. I found a lacy black thong in my drawer and pulled it up.. making sure that my pussy felt smooth and clean at the same time. It was so wet. That brought a smile to my face. Daddy would be so proud.

I emerged from the bedroom and found daddy sitting in his armchair, stroking his extremely hard cock with his hand. He looked me up and down, and then up and down again. He didn’t say anything, but gave a nod of approval. I had passed the first test of the evening. There was a glass sitting beside a bottle of Bacardi on the end table. I knelt at his knees and poured us both a drink. He took the bottle from me and poured more into my cup. “Little girl. When will you learn to do things right?” I quickly kissed the head of his cock to win his approval back. But he stood up and tucked himself away. I was overstepping my place to assume I could have him already. He took my chin in his hand and tilted my head up to meet his eyes. “Tsk. Tsk.” He said with the most arousing smile. He poured my drink into my mouth. Being such a rare drinker the liquid burned my mouth and my throat as I swallowed and choked. “That’s right. Take it all.” He said as I gulped, trying to imagine that it was his delicious cum instead.

He got his car keys and headed for the door. I rushed to get up and follow, not wanting to be left behind.

He always picks the same club. It must be his favorite. I haven’t asked, but never complained either. We walked in together. He was being the perfect gentleman. Cupping my back with his hand, leading me and guiding me around the puddles forming in the street. My Bacardi vision was not fully accurate and I felt safe knowing that my safety was his top priority.

The man at the door asked for my Id. It was in daddy’s pocket. He shook the man’s hand as if they were old buddies. He smiles and laughs and can be everyone and anyone’s friend. I see women inside already looking to see who is coming in, and they are interested. The man at the door looks at my Id and laughs. “How in the world is this beauty forty?” He shakes daddy’s hand and hands my card back to Him. I think daddy must have slipped money into his hand during that handshake for him to be so sweet to me.

I am led to a small round table nestled into the corner beside the dance floor. Daddy sits down but doesn’t pull out a chair for me. Instead he tells me to go find a free drink at the bar. I gulp and look over at the bar, assessing how big of a challenge this will be. I know I need more alcohol in me if I am going to reek of the confidence that daddy expects. I walk over, honestly trying just to not trip over my own feet. Doesn’t daddy know that I’m just a dork? A nerd who has been successful in life by hard mental effort; straining all day over numbers and bookkeeping. I am not the sultry, hot playboy bunny that he is asking me to be. But I trust him, and know that this red dress is already turning heads. It’s not super hard to be noticed in a room full of half drunk men who haven’t been laid in a month of Sundays. It isn’t long before I have had a few drinks bought for me. I am appropriately bright and vibrant and attentive. I look back over at daddy watching me a few times. He is smiling. I am doing good. I feel more and more confident knowing that I am able to play this game. I wouldn’t do well at all if I wasn’t smart enough to know the rules and how to play by them.

The dance floor is packed with hot and sweaty men, doing their best to grind, and the occasional stumbling drunk, more happy with the drink in hand, that is slopping everywhere, than with the prospects that they could be looking for. I slide off my bar stool and jar my ankles a bit. The floor felt so much closer than normal since I am wearing tall heels. I don’t often wear heels and I feel powerful and sexy as I walk, no, glide, to the dance floor.

I find a spot at the edge of the wall of people and connect with the music. I don’t rush it. I need to feel it. Become familiar with the pounding of the beat. I close my eyes and imagine that I am a goddess, and the drumming is the field of worshippers all pounding on their drums in unison. My body takes over and I allow my thinking mind to rest, and my primal mind to emerge. The mind I must suppress so often. The one that must lay dormant as I fold laundry and run to the post office and deal with the demands of life. Ahh, it feels so good to let her out. My body is one with the music now. The beat is my heartbeat. My hips move to the pulsing rhythm.

I open my eyes and see that the dancers have made room for me. Men have begun to creep over towards me, never losing the movement of the song, and never taking their eyes off me. My red dress looks electric in the pulsating lights that seem to match the thunderous music. The men look like serpents, slithering closer and closer. I am aware that women have moved farther and farther away. I want to encourage them, straighten their crowns and give them compliments. But I know that is not part of this game.

I steal a glance over at daddy and see that he is watching me intently. If he wasn’t my daddy I would think he was enraptured with my body. Maybe he is. He slides his hand under the table. I can see he is stroking himself in the darkened shadow. His forearm is moving ever so rhythmically as a man approaches me and slides my body closer to his with his arm around my waist. I can feel him push his thigh up against my panties. It feels so good. I dance willingingly. I let my arousal take over my movements and grind against him. My eyes snap back open as I realize it feels a little too good and I have to let up on the pressure some. A man is behind me. I wonder if daddy still has a good view.

The room seems full of men. Everyone is moving in unison. The idea of a group of worshippers stays in my head as I spin around and catch the eye contact with multiple men, all already so aroused, wanting to push their cocks up against my body as we dance. Daddy does have a good view and I see that his forearm is moving even faster.

Everyone seems to be in a trance. But that comes to a screeching halt as my eyes lock on a woman, who seems too angry and red in the face to be out on the dance floor, rapidly approaching me. She has her hands clenched and I see men move away from me as if I am dangerous. Oh lord, she is mad at me. I wonder which one of these cocks she is laying her claim on. I can feel the blood pounding through my veins and my pulse rise, but for a totally different reason than it was a minute ago. All fun has fled from my night like a running away with a stolen sandwich.

I feel a quick tug pulling me backwards and I realize daddy has yanked me out of harm’s way. We are moving quickly through the crowd. Daddy looks serious, but strong. I feel like I have been pulled out of the path of a train. Relief floods my body and I feel adrenaline making my limbs feel like jello.

Daddy puts my body in front of his and uses his hand on my back guides me forward. We are in front of the bathroom. He pushes me through the door and I find myself thrust into the men’s room. I<b> received </font></b>a few glances, but I realize that my appearance in the loo is not so unusual. Men continue to pee in the urinals and continue to fix their hair at the sink.

I am pushed roughly into a stall and the door slams behind me. Daddy is being so rough with me I am afraid suddenly that I have made him mad. I quickly review my moves of the evening’s game to make sure I wasn’t a disobedient little girl. I immediately remember me enjoying that thigh and grinding so good on it that I almost had orgasmed. He had seen that, I am sure of that.

I am pushed against the stall wall, and I feel, in one quick movement, that daddy has pulled my tight skirt up over my ass, and pulled my g-string over to one side as he pushes his cock deep into me. With the moisture drawn to my skin from my dancing combined with the wetness inside me from the arousal of the dance his raging hard on slips right in. I hear him moan. He has been waiting for that feeling all night. I can feel him push against my body, making sure he is balls deep in me, and he rocks ever so slightly to feel the friction of the motion. Then withdraws. “Mmm… little girl.. lets go home and I can give this punishment to you properly.” Tonight’s fun has just begun.

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